


In You Everything Sank

by havisham



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (Feudal Ladies), Despair, F/F, Handmaidens, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Loyalty, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:13:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aerin meets Morwen Eledhwen, and that changes her life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, Elleth. 
> 
> Title from Pablo Neruda, [The Song of Despair](http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/song-despair).

Aerin came in the kitchens from the driving cold of the courtyard, coughing and stomping and her nose streaming, and froze when she noticed that everyone’s eyes were on her. Her mother looked like she wanted to cry, and her father looked like he wanted to laugh. Her brothers and sisters share their parents’ expressions, mixed together.

His lordship smiled and his bride looked at her, a circlet of spring flowers in her black hair. The flowers, Aerin knew, came from the hothouses that the Elves had left behind. Most of space was now given over to herbs and vegetables, plants that all could use, but still there was still a corner for white snow-drops and daffodils and bright purple crocuses. 

Morwen favored the hothouses, Aerin knew, and the flowers looked as if they had found a mate in their fragile beauty. Elfsheen, Eledhwen, they called her and not without reason -- she was as lovely as an elf-maiden, but mortal, and with a mortal bloom that even the fairest of the Fair Folk could not touch. 

This was the first time Aerin had seen her close. 

“My lord, my lady,” Aerin said, bobbing up and down in an awkward curtsey. She studied the floor intently, as if the worn floorboards hide the secret to living through this moment.

“Aerin,” Morwen said, and Aerin felt a warm touch against her burning cheek. Aerin looked up, half-hopeful and half-already flinching away. 

“Thank you,” Morwen said. 

Astonished, Aerin said, “For what, my lady?”

Saying nothing, Morwen bent close and kissed her cheek. So softly that Aerin thought she might have imagined it, Morwen said, “For your sincerity.” 

She left Aerin breathless and wide-eyed and already in half-love. 

*

“I don’t know why they would pick you when there are a dozen more likely girls who would serve, gladly,” Midhwen said loudly. “I think she just pities you, that’s all.” 

Aerin’s temper flared anew but she took a breath, then two, and said nothing. She concentrated on keeping her stitches neat and even. Her cousin talked on, but Aerin had much to distract her. 

None had been more surprised than Aerin herself when the news had come that she would be one of Lady Morwen’s ladies-in-waiting. Her mother had wept at the news and then ordered Aerin to go improve her sewing before she was to start. 

Midhwen had come to Aerin’s rooms, she said, to congratulate her. 

“I am sure you are right,” Aerin said at last, when she was sure that her anger had passed. “But she did not pick someone else. She picked me and I am glad to serve her.” 

Midhwen snorted loudly and said, “Everyone knows Lady Morwen is a cold one. You will not be happy serving her.”

With as much calm as she could manage, Aerin said, “Well, we shall see.” 

* 

In the next few months, Aerin learned as much as she wished to know about Morwen. When she woke, how she like she liked to put up her hair, what she liked to eat, when she liked to do her sewing, and the intensity of quiet and patience that followed her decisions. She was not unkind, as Aerin had half-feared, and if she expected the most from the people around her, she also did not spare herself. 

When Aerin was called home to help with the harvest, she saw to her surprise, that Morwen, too, was coming with her, clothed in a simple work dress. She did not even have a hat to save her pale skin. 

“Oh no, my lady, you mustn’t,” Aerin said, flustered. “What would Lord Húrin say to see you like this?” 

Morwen laughed, a rare treat. “He knows I am no delicate Elvish lady. I helped during sheep-shearing time in Ladros -- I learned it when when I was young, though I have not yet done in a long while. Come with me and see that I do no wrong.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Aerin said. “But please, do wear a hat!” 

She did that, and after a long, long day under the hot sun, Aerin brought her a jug of cool water. Morwen gave her thanks, took off her hat and drank. Aerin found to her shame that she could not take her eyes away from the way Morwen’s white throat worked as she swallowed, and how the water dripped down to her breasts. 

Oh, oh, what was she doing? Aerin could feel her mother’s despair. No wonder no man wanted to marry her, if she looked at other women like that! _But_ , a sneaky little voice countered, _Morwen wasn’t_ any _other woman, she was Aerin’s lady, and it was Aerin’s duty to serve -- nay, to love her._

“My dear, you must have some water too,” Morwen said, handing the jug back to Aerin. “You are quite flushed.” 

* 

Aerin met Rían a few months after coming into Morwen’s service. The girl -- for she was a girl still, only thirteen at most, was lovely, and dreamy, lost in a world of her own. Often, Aerin would find her in a quiet corner, wrapped in one of Morwen’s shawls, an open book and a cat as her only companions. 

Everyone handled Rían as if she was made of glass, everyone, that was, except Morwen. Aerin knew that the two kinswomen had come across the mountains together -- rumor said their hands had been almost frozen together, they held on to each other so tightly -- but it did not seem to her that they were especially close. 

Once, Aerin was coming up the stairs with large basket full of fresh linens for her lady’s bedchamber, when she bumped into Rían. Aerin could not help but yelp in surprise, but Rían streaked past her, her face wet with tears. Aerin gathered up her load and walked into the room Rían had just quit with a mounting sense of trepidation. 

She found Morwen looking out the window, as still and remote as tower. Aerin took care to work quickly and quietly, but before she left, she heard Morwen speak.

Aerin turned and asked, “Did you say something, my lady?” 

“Aerin, do you think I am cruel?” 

"My lady --” Aerin turned and saw that Morwen was looking at her, eyes dry but subtly beseeching. It shocked Aerin to see her lady so -- vulnerable, and yet -- still! Through the surface softness, she saw the iron still. “I do not think you are cruel. You are strong, my lady. I hope, with all my heart that someday I can be as strong as you.” 

She had taken a step toward Morwen, no, she had taken two, she was with Morwen now, and it seemed only natural to put her arms around Morwen’s waist. 

For a moment, Morwen bent her head so as to rest on Aerin’s shoulder. Aerin could scarce _breathe_ at her own daring, to touch her lady and not be rebuffed. Morwen raised her head, looked at her, despair having given way to curiosity. 

Carefully, knowing her next move mattered, Aerin rose to her tip-toes and pressed a kiss on Morwen’s forehead. Shyly, as she pulled away, Aerin said, “I think you are the kindest, most gracious lady to have ever lived.” 

“Oh my dear girl,” Morwen said. “We live in a poor world, indeed, if I am the kindest lady in it.” 

Aerin flushed but would not concede defeat. 

*

And then Lord Húrin returned from Eithel Sirion, the new Lord of Dor-lómin after Lord Galdor’s death. The celebrations for his coming of age and coming into his title were understandably muted -- there were as many grave faces as there were glad ones. But still, the whole household exploded with activity with the young lord’s arrival. There was so much to be done, so much to be taken care of that Aerin hardly had time to think, much less do anything like resent the loss of Morwen's time and attention. After all, Húrin was her kinsman too, and Aerin had a great deal of respect for him. He was kind, and always ready with a joke and a laugh. He was a good man. 

And he made Morwen happy, and wasn’t that the most important thing? 

*

The winter of Morwen’s first confinement seemed the longest in Aerin’s life. The snow fell fast and thick, and in many mornings, fog would roll in, carrying with it flakes of snow, so the air itself seemed frozen, glittering in the weak light. 

According to the healers, Morwen was in fine condition. She was young, and hale. Her child would be too -- rumor had her carrying a boy, though some said that the auguries were mixed. The child was sure to have an interesting future, the prediction went on to say. 

Aerin sighed and tried not to roll her eyes at the silliness of the gossips, or the guesses of fortune-tellers. Instead, as tradition would have it, she gave them bread and cheese and sent them on their way. 

At the very end of the day, she would tread lightly up the stairs and peek into the darkness of Morwen’s room, waiting for a sign. Soon, she would hear Morwen’s voice, low and soft, bidding her to come inside. They would lie together under the blankets and talk quietly until Morwen fell asleep. At first, Aerin had taken care to wait until Morwen was indeed sleeping, and then tip-toe away to her own bed. But as the nights grew longer and colder, Aerin found herself staying longer and longer until at last, she woke one day, with her face hidden in the crook of Morwen’s neck. 

Aerin lay still for moment, content.

* 

It was a brilliant summer day after the winter in which Túrin had turned one. He scowled at the flower that Aerin dangled in front of his face, before trying to grab it with a chubby hand. Aerin picked him up, squirming, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. 

“Feeeh!” Túrin said, looking aggrieved.

“Oh, Aerin, do not tease him so,” Morwen said, coming up to them, holding a large basketful of flowers. She set them down and took Túrin into her arms. The little boy seemed to calm in his mother’s arms and Aerin said nothing, content to admire the touching scene. 

Morwen graced her with a smile. “Do you not wish to marry, my dear? Have children of your own?” 

“I never will,” Aerin said, without thinking. She blushed at Morwen’s raised eyebrow. “My father cannot afford a proper dowry, anyway.” 

“You know that Húrin and I would provide you with an ample dowry,” Morwen said, sitting down on the tussocky grass with more grace than Aerin would have thought possible. “It is the least we could do.” 

“I know,” Aerin said, and marveling at how simple it was to say. She did know. The last year alone had broken down almost every wall between them, there seemed to be little need for formality now. She had seen Morwen in the dead of night, knocking softly at her door, fearful and unable to say why. They had sat vigil over Túrin’s bedside, until dawn, sunlight and safety. Feeling a little braver now, she said, “In fact, I do not think I will be the sort to marry anyhow. I do not relish the thought of it. I prefer the company of women.” 

“Who does not?” Morwen said with a slight smile. But then she grew serious. “But I know of what you speak.” 

“You do?” Aerin said, half-afraid. 

“Yes,” Morwen said. “And now I promise you, Aerin of the House of Hador, as long as I am Lady here, you will be my heart’s companion, and will never need to marry.” 

Aerin blinked back tears that threatened to fall. A little blindly, she grasped Morwen’s hand and bent down to kiss it.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as Aerin entered Morwen’s house, she knew something had changed. Nienor gave her a hurried greeting and rushed away, her arms full of blankets. Aerin left her basket of food on the table in the kitchen and made her way carefully to Morwen's bedchamber. Aerin called her name softly and waited for Morwen to call her in. 

She did. The room was in complete disarray, clothes scattered around the bed and on floor. The contents of Morwen's jewelry box were spilled across the bed. Only few pieces remained, the others having been sold or bartered away in the twenty-two long years since the battle had ended. Aerin twisted the ring on her finger, which had once been Morwen's, a princely gift from the mysterious benefactor that had given the young Húrin and his brother succor in the wilderness. 

Brodda had shoved it on her finger at the end of their maimed wedding ceremony. For what came after, it was better to look at the ring, memorize the patterns in the silver, the sheen of it. How she hated those milky white stones at the end! 

Morwen came to her, and without a word, enveloped her in a tight embrace. For a moment, Aerin could breathe fully, and she struggled not to weep. "You are going then, to Doriath. I thought you might -- the rumor goes that the way is safer now than it has been since the fall." 

"Yes," Morwen said, and looked uncertain for a moment. It was an odd thing to see on Morwen's face, which had not even had even moved when the news of the battle had come to them. "Aerin..." 

"No, do not ask," Aerin said, her voice a whisper. "I will endeavor to be a true Lady of Dor-lomin in your absence. Those who cannot flee have need of me."

"I know it," Morwen said. And, with unexpected passion, "I wish I could have kept my promise to you. My dear, all of it." She rested her forehead against Aerin's own, and sighed deeply. "I will miss you." 

"Hush," Aerin said, pulling away, with a sniff. "You will have fine Elven ladies to be your companions now. You have no need for me." 

"I have always needed you," Morwen said. 

"Don't, please," Aerin said in a whisper, but she leaned in anyway, moved by the inevitability of it all. She kissed Morwen now, as she had always wanted to. Morwen kissed her back, touching Aerin's cheek, softly. Aerin moaned at the touch, so gentle. She had not felt such a thing before, not with Brodda, nor with the youthful fumblings she had, with young men long since dead. 

"You have no time," Aerin said, because one of them had be practical, and for once, it would not be Morwen. 

"It will not take time," Morwen said briskly, with more of her old manner. "Go lock the door. Take care you do not frighten Nienor." 

"That one does not scare easily," Aerin said, closing the door and pulling the latch. "Why are you doing this? Is it because you think I want it, and it is a reward for my loyalty?" 

"If it was, would you reject it?" Morwen said, shrugging off her clothes. Instinctively, Aerin stepped forward, to help her, before she sternly reminded herself to keep her hands at her side. She had seen Morwen naked many times, but not like this. There were fine wrinkles on the sides of her mouth and eyes, and deeper grooves on her forehead. Her skin was sallow and pockmarked, her breasts sagged, and her ribs showed clearly. 

 

"You are silent, Aerin. This is not what you wished for, these many years, is it?" Morwen laughed, but it was a dark sound, filled with sharp edges. Aerin wanted to shout, to scream. So much time, wasted. So much she had to say, but she couldn't find the tongue. 

Finally, she began, saying: "Eledhwen they called you, but you are no Elf-woman, it is true. Time would not mark you so, if you were. But I have loved you since the day I set eyes on you, a bride, and in my eyes you have only become more beautiful. Morwen, tell me I am not wrong to love you." 

"No, no, you are not wrong," Morwen said, but her voice was faint, it trembled. 

Aerin thought, she does not know what she is saying. 

"I loved him -- Húrin, I mean. My whole life was full of him, even when he went away." 

"I know, I would not ask anything from you --" 

"But you were my friend, you were with me for so long, and I wished so much that I could give you want you wanted from me." 

"I wished nothing from you but what you gave me," Aerin said, her voice almost breaking. 

"Before I leave you, Aerin, my friend, my love, let me --" Morwen kissed her again, less gentle now. 

"Yes," Aerin said, like a prayer. "Yes. O, Lady help us. Yes." 

Aerin's clothes were finer than Morwen's were now, the hems threaded with gold, the embroidery, Elf-made, from before the fall of Barad Eithel. There was a great market for it, little baubles of the Noldor, now that their makers were all dead or fled. Brodda, despite appearances, wielded more power with trade than he did with his sword. He knew the value of a good bargain, and of taking care of his possessions. But this did not make him careful. Or kind. 

Aerin had not been a virgin on her wedding day, and for that she had always been grateful. But now, she wished almost that she was -- unspoiled, untouched by Brodda, untouched by anyone, save Morwen herself. It was a foolish thought, hypocrital in the light of her comments to Morwen herself. Aerin did not voice them now.

Instead, she carefully swept aside the clothes from the bed, letting the trinkets fall to the ground. Then she brought Morwen to lay with her, skin against skin. She took a moment to savor it, before she began to do her work, to give as much pleasure as as she could to Morwen. 

But she did not expect to have so much pleasure come to her, from Morwen's clever fingers skimming down, from her throat, to her breasts and belly, and down to her sex. Her fingers quickened, slicked. Aerin closed her eyes and bit her tongue, but it didn't stop her from crying out when she came. Morwen clamped her hand over Aerin's mouth. 

"Not so loud," Morwen hissed and Aerin nodded, sighed, her tongue brushing against Morwen's fingers, eager to taste herself. For the longest time, Aerin felt complete and secure, and though she knew both of these feelings to be illusions, she felt no sorrow. 

*

She embraced Morwen for the last time, in the wee hours before dawn. Morwen, somber now, hugged back with a sigh. Nienor, already saddled, waved to her and shouted for Aerin to remember to care for Sador. 

"Take care of yourself!" Aerin called back, but they were swallowed up in the gloom. The Easterlings believed that Morwen was a witch gifted with a certain amount of power. Aerin, having served under her for so long, was thought to be quite suspect herself. 

Aerin wished now that she had some glimmer of Sight, some reassurance that, at least, from the wreckage of Dor-Lómin, Morwen and her children would survive. Túrin still lived, after all. He was their Lord, would he not come for them? 

Aerin bent her head down. She hoped. She could only hope -- and survive, and help her people do the same. 

It was as Morwen would have wished.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] In You Everything Sank by havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5273669) by [pumpkinpodfic (thegreatpumpkin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/pseuds/pumpkinpodfic)




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